Devious Intentions
by Valtana
Summary: Random one-shot written for a friend when she was having a bad day. May continue if I get enough good reviews. For now, this is it. Legolas/Aragorn slash


"I've suffered through hell-fire, the damned, the living, and those who would see me dead…and for what

"I've suffered through hell-fire, the damned, the living, and those who would see me dead…and for what? So that you may take your time in deciding what it is that we will be dressed in? Beloved, I care naught for what this world has to offer me – I care for what I cannot obtain by gold or wealth or power alone." A quiet sigh escaped the King as he looked down, before returning his intense gaze to the woman standing in front of him. "I am simply not in a place, at this moment, to think over such trivial things. Please, carry on…I'll return later this evening."

He couldn't quite make out what she said as he turned, heading out of the main meeting hall, heading down the stone steps quickly. It was such an odd feeling – discourse in such a beautiful place as the land where he'd spent the better part of his youth. Still, as Aragorn moved down the stairs, out into the cool night beyond, he couldn't help finding it fitting. Displeasure, it would seem, was determined to follow him wherever he decided to roam. Wander as he may, seeking out a simple peace, he could never seem to be in the right place at the right time. Becoming the King that he was born to be wasn't the easy thing that most thought it had been – it was a burden more than a comfort. Who was he, after all, to lead all of the free peoples of Middle Earth?

He was just a Ranger, no matter how many times he tried to deny it, to himself and everyone else.

It was that Ranger who slipped into the darkness beyond the long pavilion, headed towards the cover of the bigger trees further out in the forest of the Elves. Soon enough, the only sounds to be had were the soft crunch of leaves under his feet and the gentle lulling of the waterfalls in the distance. He knew where we were headed; there was a small pond not too far away just calling his name. He would sit, skip stones, and attempt to sort out his jumbled feelings. Search for a bit of truth in all of the normality that had quickly overtaken him once he'd left Gondor, heading towards the lands where his love was waiting.

The pale light of the crescent moon gave a nice, clear path through the trees that hung overhead, heavy with the night's slumber. The trail that he followed wasn't very well used – in fact; no one knew that it existed, save for a select few who actually know that there was a pond deep within the woods, collecting the cool waters from the waterfall.

It was, then, surprising what found his eyes in the next moment.

He'd know that Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, was not far from these lands. He'd had no idea, however, that the Prince would be this close. Just ahead, standing at the base of a tall willow tree, which hung over the pond, was the most breath-taking sight that the King had seen to this date.

Aragorn had, at one point in time, seen the other man without clothing. However, that had been in a time of war, when they'd all be tired, distracted, and dirty. In this moment, however, the Elf looked like something sent straight from the beaming moon to the plain below to linger, like a spirit, on his view.

The King watched transfixed, as long, supple limbs moved to remove the last bit of clothing that hung to on his body. As tight breeches slipped away, tossed into the tree where the rest of his garments were sure to be waiting, Aragorn found himself struggling to draw breath. But…why was this man bringing such a reaction out of him?

All of that seemed to melt away as the quiet sound of a splash reached the other end of the clearing. Ripples moved out, stroking gently along the body that came to the surface a few moments later. White, pure, beautiful, and oh-so wet. Aragorn found his body reacting in ways that it hadn't attempted in months. Thankfully hidden behind a large tree, quiet as the night, Aragorn watched on, comfortable in his position behind a branch that was low enough to hide the rest of his body, and to give him a perfect view of the scene. And, what a scene it was.

Blonde hair, glittering white as the moon danced across its sleek surface, clung to every inch of sinfully exposed skin within its long reach. Eyes, so blue that they mirrored the sky on a cloudless day, were now darkened to a velveteen blue, and much like the heavens, sparkled with specks of light from the distant expanses. So darkened were they that Aragorn was sure that there was something lurking behind them – something in the way of sorrow, or anger, or love. Something powerful enough to cause him such discomfort within his own solitude.

He watched in a breathless moment as the other began to run his fingers over the vast expanses of bare skin. Aragorn was enthralled as those fingers worked from top to bottom – combing out hair with long strokes, before moving lower in order to ease a knot out of the right shoulder. Fingering even lower, until they reached a dark nub, resting in the middle of a defined chest. With a wanton secrecy, Aragorn had to bite his lip as he watched the other man gently squeeze the small pebble of flesh between thumb and forefinger, rolling it until a quiet groan escaped the elf's lips. That sound sent a jolt straight from his ear to the apex of his crotch, traveling down his spine like a lightening bolt.

The left hand took up what the right had started, pressing the other side's nipple between two fingers and working it slowly. The other hand ever so slowly moved lower, skimming over a muscled torso before dipping lower, beneath the water's surface. Aragorn was hard-pressed to keep himself from imagining what that hand was doing as he watched wrist and elbow move above water in a pulsing, swinging gently. The elf's cheeks flushed as his head dropped back, lips falling open in a not-so-silent whimper as those actions continued.

Suddenly, Aragorn had a problem that was bigger than being awkward in the sight of his friend's private actions. All the same, the King devised a plan…and slowly let his hands work over his own body as he watched the other man move. Fingers moved under his tunic, tweaking muscle and sinew as he went, before his own right hand found it's way into his tight breeches. The relief that he felt as his fingers wrapped around the painfully hard evidence of his arousal was paramount.

Meanwhile, the elf had taken to being less discreet with his pleasure. A regular, guttural pant began to move faster and faster as his fingers worked beneath the water, gently rolling over his cock. Aragorn had to wonder how the other man was still standing, as deeply in bliss as he looked.

Those groans began to take shape, growing louder and louder as the elf got closer and closer to the edge of reason. Slowly, the word became clearer and clearer until Legolas was almost screaming at the top of his lungs – though there was no one around to hear it.

"Ara….Ara…go…Aragorn!"

His name.

The elf was falling over the edge to his name.

It was a dream that was too good to be true.

Quietly groaning himself, Aragorn could hardly stand it. A few strokes, and he was already close to release. He closed his eyes for an all-too-brief moment, tilting his head back towards the wide sky beyond, and let go. In that moment, his mouth fell open in a quiet shout as he reached the peak of paradise. Unable to help it, his legs gave out, sending the King to his knees on the forest floor, reaching the end of his climax.

The sound of quickly moving water brought Aragorn back to his senses within seconds. Tensing, Aragorn quickly righted his own clothing, realizing that he must have alerted the other man to his presence. Cursing under his breath, Aragorn glanced up, seeing the elf darting for his belongings – towards his weapons.

As he predicted, Legolas was soon leveling an arrow at his face, a dangerous glare in his eyes. "…What are you doing here?" He demanded, voice deep and still full from his recent activities. "Do you enjoy spying on visitors, or is it some sort of ill pastime that you take up on a whim?"

Lifting his hands, Aragorn decided it best to play it safe. "I…heard someone here in the forest. I came for a look…forgive me, if I've intruded on something…personal." He offered, nodding his head.

The elf's eyes gave a quiet, dangerous gleam. "Think not that I am quite so dumb as you imagine me." He hissed, eyes narrowing. "King or not, I could have this arrow notched in your chest if I so chose, for your trespasses against me."

"Legolas…what, I wonder, has got you so flustered?" Aragorn shot out. Not quite a question – more of a statement. He knew quite well what had Legolas in a bind, and was glad to know that he was part of this particular problem.

"Leave, and we will forget this ever happened. Either that, or you will feel the end of this arrow in your chest. Those are your choices."

Deadly serious. So protective.

"And what if I were to forge my own path. 'Tis something that I've become quite good at, would you not agree?" He allowed a small smile to play over his features. "I do believe that I'd like to talk this over a bit more with you – what friend are you if you do not allow me to speak my peace?"

Legolas' expression darkened before he lowered his bow, easing the tension on the arrow. It was amazing, even now, to realize that this man was so completely threatening, strong, and commanding…in the nude. Being without clothing somehow only accentuated the fact that he was every bit as manly out of clothing as he was within it. And, every bit as good looking.

"Speak, then, or leave." Legolas muttered, moving to pack his things. Standing once more on solid ground, Aragorn was gifted with a full look at the elven Prince. Lean, tall, strong, and yet delicate. Almost like an animal, ready to spring away at a moment's notice.

"I cannot…quite explain what has just happened, or why it is that it has happened. However, what I know is this – I have never wanted, with every fiber of my mortal being, as I want for you right now." And there it was. The simple, factual truth. "And, if I can testify to what I've seen this eve, you're not without a certain kind of wanting yourself."

Cheeks flushed again, a pale rose to match the lightness of everything else about him. "And why is that? What am I to you, Ranger? No more than a set of ears, I'm sure. You have a lady to return to, who would gladly deal with your wanting." He muttered, shaking his head. "Besides which – what makes you so sure that I desire the same?"

"Your face, passionate and open to every emotion that flows beneath that beautifully placid surface, falling open to release my name. That is what makes me so sure." Aragorn said, a quiet fire leaking into his tone.

More red. "And if I were to admit to such things? Friends do not feel thus about friends, Aragorn. Better to deny it and act as if it never happened." Sighing, the elf stood and turned to face his old friend. "Lest things become uncomfortable for everyone."

"Discomfort or heartache – my choice is an easy one. Deny me not this gift, Legolas. I've spoken my true heart's desire, and cannot be any more honest than this." Pleading? Not quite. More like gentle coaxing. After all, it shouldn't have taken more than that.

And it didn't.

"And what of the morrow? What when you wake in your bed to find your Queen at your side? What will become of me? Am I to be yours for one moon's breath, only to be gone tomorrow?"

"Only if you so desire it." The King assured, opening his hands. "I ask for nothing more than what I've made clear to want. Will you give me this, or keep us both from what it is that would make us contented?"

It was a foolish question – one that was answered with moving feet. Light, springing, gentle and fast, Legolas moved over the ground and crossed the distance between them. Lips met in a heated, fevered sigh of unknown passion. Sweet and yet needy beyond reason, the two clashed for a moment before hands and fingers were brought into the mix. Nimble, immortal digits moved to remove the clothing that covered its prize in a quick dash of speed and strength. A few buttons were torn, and a rip found it's way into Aragorn's sleeve, but the King hardly seemed to mind. While the elf was busied removing the cloth that separated them, Aragorn was content to run his hands over still-damp skin, reveling in the softness of it beneath his calloused fingers.

A shirt hit the ground.

He'd never known elves to have claws, but he was sure of it after he felt the quiet pulling on the flesh of his back, delivered from the fingers that raked over him. Reaching down, attempting to draw out more friction from the meeting, Aragorn took hold of a pair of firm buttocks, yanking them forward in order to grind one hard organ with the other.

Pants skittered to the forest floor with a quiet sigh.

They were joined, now, in every curve. One set of hard hips pressing into another as the two fought for dominance. Supple limbs moved to wrap around the King's neck, pulling him into a deeper, more passionate expression. Each was forced to stop for a moment of bliss as stiffening erections touched, bumped, and glided along one another, drawing out a groan from each man.

"Into the water…" Legolas breathed, stepping backwards and pulling the King with him, arms still entwined around his neck. Falling back over the edge of the pond, the two fell into the water with a large wave following. Lips never parted as they dove under, and Aragorn struggled to bring them back up. Parting for a long moment, the two caught their breath once back upright.

Aragorn took the brief second of stunned silence to attack the creamy skin exposed to him at the base of Legolas' neck. Sucking the flesh into his mouth, he savored the taste of the pond, sweet and living, and a heady flavor that was Legolas. The choked scream that he earned was enough of a reward to last him for the rest of his life, should it have had to wait that long.

Glancing around, still holding Legolas up with the lithe man's legs around his middle, Aragorn pushed them towards a rock that rested in the water, showing just enough to give a good surface. Smoothed by time and water lapping all around it, the rock was the perfect place to finish what the other man had started all on his own.

The elf was slightly surprised to feel something smooth and cold against his backside, but quickly moved up onto the rock with strong arms. Aragorn found that he faced with a beautiful challenge, bobbing lightly in front of him, as the elf moved into position. Unable to resist the urge that pulsed at the back of his mind, the King leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the pillar of flesh exposed to him, swallowing him.

Slowly, Aragorn pulled the flesh into his mouth with a gentle suction, working his mouth in a way that he'd found pleasurable in the past. Though this was the first time that he'd ever serviced another creature, he was sure that there was no one else that would have been nearly as arousing to pleasure than this. Slowly, he moved his hands up the other man's thighs as he worked lower, moving his tongue along the bottom as he went.

Legolas tossed his head back, letting out a cry as if he'd been wounded. His fingers shot out, wrapping in the long brown locks that were so deliciously between his legs, as Aragorn pulled him deeply into his mouth.

The unexpected pleasure was almost too much for the elf to take, and as the King realized that he was about to bring a quick end to something far more important, he eased his head back, allowing the flesh to slip free.

Groaning in protest, and about to sit up, Legolas was stopped cold by the feel of something hard pressing against the opening between his legs. Looking down, he caught sight of Aragorn, kneeling between his legs, prepared to enter his body. A sudden jolt of fear ran through his body, and the elf froze. Slowly, he eased his muscles, attempting to relax. If it were too much, he would simply tell the other man to stop. He trusted Aragorn enough to know that the other man wouldn't do anything to hurt him…intentionally.

With that thought in mind, Legolas eased into a calm state of mind as he felt the pressure start. With the water that was still around them, the entry was somewhat less painful than it would have been otherwise. And, at least for that, Legolas was grateful.

It was difficult to ease into the passage that was so tightly closed. However, after a few moments of pressure, the opening finally gave way and a tight and moving heat absorbed Aragorn. Closing his eyes, he tried to keep from rushing faster into the pleasure. Pure ecstasy enveloped him as he eased in, inch by inch, as the tunnel gave. Finally, after a few moments, Aragorn was completely seated within his lover, and dared to open his eyes.

The elf looked less satisfied than his lover at that moment, his head turned to the side, eyes closed hard to prevent more tears from spilling free. A twinge of guilt flowed through the King as he reached out, touching Legolas' cheek. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the sweet place where the other's pulse raged, and attempted to soothe away some of the discomfort. Doing his best to ignore the lower half of his body until the elf had adjusted, the King remained still.

Slowly, the ache started to release from Legolas' body. What was left was an amazing sense of being full, and complete, for the first time. Easing his hips back, he attempted to signal to the other that it was all right to move.

Taking the sign for what it was, Aragorn pressed his hips forward to test the sensitivity of his lover. When he got only a quiet, happy groan in response, he took heart, and began to move. Slowly, he worked his body – in, out, in, out – until he felt the muscles loosen all the more, giving him more freedom to move. Giving a quiet groan, he started to speed up.

Between spread thighs, Aragorn lost himself, and what was left of the sanity he once thought himself to possess. Here he was, in the middle of a forest, enjoying the company of one of his oldest and dearest friends. But, what was so wrong with this? No one was being hurt – they were both men of their word. And, by the spirits, this was a good feeling. To be buried so completely in such a beautiful creature was worthy of a dream that Aragorn had never known.

Flesh moved against flesh, and soon the two were arching to meet a desperate rhythm that required more than they had within them to give. Every thrust shattered the world that they had known, and every withdrawal pulled something into its place. Without thinking, the King eased one pale leg onto his shoulder, before adding the other and pressing deeper into his willing lover. And it was like this that the two remained as heaven drew closer and closer.

With a pant, and a quiet groan, Aragorn attempted to warn the other man that he was close to the edge. However, the elf seemed to know, and rolled his back, arching high enough to make the impossibly tight passage even tighter.

And the world came to a screeching halt.

Everything became a white light that was so intense, that for a moment the King thought he would go blind. A few seconds later, the midnight air came crashing back around them, and he found himself back in his body, barely breathing, and satisfied. His hips had stopped moving, thrust one last time completely into his lover. Looking down, he managed to catch sight of the last of the other's face as he flew over the edge into a beautiful oblivion. Evidence of their actions coated his belly, and Aragorn soon found himself easing down to lay beside his lover.

The night grew still again, as their breathing eased. Both were exhausted and satisfied with what had happened, and neither was willing to question it just now. Laying there, quietly on the rock, the two fell into an easy slumber, still joined together.

Off in the trees, a quiet rustle finally announced the presence of a figure that had been watching since the King had arrived. A delicate smirk fell over pale red lips as dark hair moved behind. "Always was a lover of pointed ears…" She couldn't help chuckling at her own clever planning.


End file.
